


When Virtue Fails

by Psychic_Refugee



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:39:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychic_Refugee/pseuds/Psychic_Refugee
Summary: Beth thought she had planned out her future which included graduating high school and attending Berkeley. She got good grades, was second chair clarinet in the band, and was an active member of Earth Justice.She thought she had done everything right, she had no idea her mother’s dark past would lead to her part in the Apocalypse





	1. Chapter 1

Bethany laid on her bed doing homework, dutifully reading the chapter and answering the questions. It was getting late, but school didn’t seem to care about a good night’s sleep when teacher’s always assigned hours upon hours of homework. That was on top of all the extra curriculars students had to be part of in order to be competitive for universities. It was especially important to Beth as she wanted to get into Berkley, one of the hardest schools to get into. Luckily, she was a night owl and able to stay up well into the night; even luckier that she naturally ran on little sleep.

She attributed that to her mother, who could work several night shifts at the hospital as an ER nurse and still be plucky enough to attend her band competitions and other school functions.

“Who are the visigoths?” she read out loud, lightly chewing on her pen as she thought about the answer. “They are the flashier cousins to the abscondigoths.”

_Four years of Latin was totally worth it_ ,

She snickered at her clever joke, an unlady like snort went on for a few more minutes as she wrote a real answer and wished she could get away with her humorous version.

Her mother came to her door, wondering why her daughter looked so pleased with herself and laughing while doing homework.

“What’s so funny?” Mia Baxter asked her daughter, her curiosity compelling her.

“It’s nothing,” Beth replied, not wanting her mother to think she was a nerd and not wanting to explain Latin conjugation.

“How was work?” she asked, changing the subject.

“It’s work, idiots come in severely hurt and we save them.”

“There is no shortage of idiots in this town.”

“True, they’re my job security so I can’t help but appreciate them.”

Both giggled at the joke, Beth still had half her mind on her reading and answering questions while talking with her mother.

“One of your classmates came in, a Jessica Harper? She came in after a car accident, she has a broken leg and whiplash. It’s really bad, she may lose it.”

“Ha,” Beth scoffed vindictively as she wrote out who won the battle of Naseby.

“That’s not very nice,” Mia chided gently, slightly taken aback by Beth’s vindictiveness.  

“She’s not a very nice person. She likes to throw things in front of Tia Hattly’s wheel chair, she also throws pennies in the elevator doors to put them out of order. Sounds like she got a big case of ‘karma is an ironic bitch.’ If I ever meet this karma, I’m going to give her a big high five.”

While Beth continued to do her homework, she didn’t notice her mother look worriedly at her. Under normal circumstances, any mother would be worried about the cavalier way their daughter took the news of a classmate’s misfortune, even one they didn’t like. Mia had more reasons to worry than most, not just about her daughter’s attitude but the coincidental accidents that happened to someone she actively disliked.

It happened a lot with classmates Beth didn’t care for, something only an ER nurse and her mother would notice. Mia couldn’t help but remember her past, wondering if it was finally catching up with her.

_I’m so sorry Beth, it’s all my fault._

* * *

 

Beth didn’t notice them staring at her at first. They were new students, they came halfway through the year and everyone wondered who they were and why they were coming in so late. But the novelty of new students quickly wore off, there was plenty of gossip that made its way through the populace. She was surprised at the fanciful stories being told about them both.

“I heard they’re Satanists. They’re combing the schools for virgin sacrifices,” Beth’s friend in the band, Bryony, told her after practice.

“Good luck finding one of those,” Beth snorted at the story, not believing any of it. The rest of their group had agreed, not one of them could even recall knowing anyone who still had their virginity.

The band got around…with other band members but still.

“How is Todd since the break up?” Bryony asked, the boy coming to mind since they were talking about lost virginities.

“He’s OK, I mean we didn’t date that long.”

“Was the sex that bad?”

The other girls tittered, all too familiar with that question and the answer.

“It wasn’t bad,” Beth said to defend her ex. “I mean, I think not bad for two virgins who have no idea what they’re doing.”

“So, with a bit more practice, you two would still be together?”

Beth laughed, “No, probably not. I just have too much to do. Relationships just get in the way.”

“So savage, I love it.”

She laughed with them, she was glad they accepted her excuse. It was true that she had many school obligations that made dating hard, but the biggest reason she broke up with Todd was because she felt nothing when she was with him. She didn’t really feel anything for any boy, or girl for that matter. She had looked up asexuality and thought that it had described how she felt about dating and people in general. But she had also seen so many other types of sexualities that she wondered if she simply hadn’t crossed the threshold needed to be truly attracted to someone, or if she hadn’t met someone who was her specific type. Coming to terms with any sexuality other than hetero was daunting, and she felt it wasn’t something she needed to decide while in high school. She didn’t think she could handle the questions or doubts. She also felt her small conservative Arizona town wasn’t the time or place, California was larger and more liberal. She would bide her time before really exploring her sexuality either way.

Beth had so much homework and other school obligations that she didn’t notice being practically stalked by the new kids. It wasn’t until someone else noticed how they had skulked around band competitions, sat in the back of Earth Justice meetings, and always seemed to find the seats at lunch that had a clear view of her that she started to see them everywhere else.

She should have been freaked out, but they were so small and pale; she had a hard time finding them intimidating.

“They don’t look like they could hurt a fly, should I be worried? I mean, they could have guns or something if they really wanted to hurt me…right? They kind of look like they could be ‘lone wolves.’” she talked with her mother at dinner over Chinese, shoving pork fried rice into her face as she tried to reason out what she ought to do about the new students.

“Who are these students again?” her mother didn’t quite follow the whole story as Beth had a habit of speaking quickly and forgetting that she didn’t go to high school so she wasn’t 100% sure what she was talking about half the time. But she started to think of who she could call if her daughter felt truly threatened, with the vast amount of school shootings and violence in the world, she wanted Beth protected.

“They’re like we these quiet goth types, I thought they were siblings since they came at the same time and dress all in black. But it turns out they’re just friends who ‘happened’ to start at a new school...together…and no one seems to know who their parents are…yeah it’s weird. My friends are totally convinced they want to sacrifice me to Satan, but they don’t look like they weigh 100lbs put together and wet, I could take them if I wanted…”

Mia almost choked on her Kung Pao chicken, alarmed at the turn of the story. Her heart racing, Beth misreading her mother’s reaction.

“I know I shouldn’t stereotype people. Just because they’re goths, doesn’t mean they worship Satan. And I don’t think actual Satanists do human sacrifices. Aren’t they all about free will and all that? The Satanic Church’s twitter is hilarious. And if they want a virgin sacrifice, they are barking up the wrong tree,” she laughed and rolled her eyes, thinking virgin sacrifice was such a stupid and antiquated idea. And her mother knew about Todd, being a nurse and her own life as a single mother made Mia no nonsense when it came to sex; she made sure Beth knew all her options and how to use them.

Beth went on and on, not noticing her mother’s discomfort.

Mia paced her room later that night, wondering if the two new students were just harmless teens going through a phase or acolytes to the Dark Lord. If the latter, then they needed to leave town immediately, but she couldn’t just disrupt their life like that without explanation.

“Perhaps it’s time to come clean,” she whispered to herself, tears escaping from her eyes; hating that her past had finally caught up to her. But there was also the possibility that the two were merely just two teenagers with taste that ran to nothing but black. She could admit she was being a coward, holding onto the hope that these were harmless teens when they could be anything but.

* * *

 

Beth had a regular schedule, it’s what happened when one was part of several school activities. She thought she had planned well for her future, doing everything she was supposed to do. She did well in school, she joined clubs and the band for socialization and to look good for Berkley. She didn’t go to parties unless they were scheduled well in advanced and didn’t conflict with any other school obligation. She had no interest in drugs, so her life was easily mapped out to anyone who took the time to observe her.

She never thought her predictable schedule would lend itself for Satanists to know the best time to drug and kidnap her.

Being part of symphonic band meant that there was a compulsory membership to the pep band. The charter school was so small that the band director had no choice but force his band classes to be part of pep band, otherwise the sporting events would have no one to play encouraging songs.

After a disappointing football game, Beth made her way to her car. She had stayed behind to help clean up, the school was practically deserted. She hurried along and had her keys ready, she rushed to get her clarinet case in the back. While she had been warned about people pretending to need help or simply running up to attack her, they never warned about anyone having a tranquilizer gun and shooting her with a dart from a distance. Before she could even touch the handle to the driver side door, she felt a sharp pain explode in her lower back. She instinctually reached to grab the offending object, the drug had hit her system quickly and the world started to blur around her. She pulled the dart and stared at it confusedly, wondering what it was doing in her back.

Before she could hit the ground, one of the goth kids she had worried about in the back of her mind caught her and gently laid her on the ground. The other goth stood above them, holding the dart gun. Beth’s eyes felt heavy and she didn’t have the strength to keep them open.

“Our Dark Prince will be so happy we found the last one.”

“Ave Satanas.”

_Fuuuccckkkk, really? The rumors were true…I…need…to…tell…them…I’m…not…a…a…vir…_

Before she could even finish her thought, the world went black and she knew no more.

* * *

 

Beth woke up to bright white walls on a bed of crisp white sheets, after several blinks to get used to the light she also noticed that there was a dozen of other beds with other women of varying ages with her. They all chatted jovially, nothing she could really make out as it was all white noise and her head still so fuzzy.

Her mouth was dry and tasted gross, she wondered how long she had been asleep. As she moved her appendages to make sure she had mobility, she got up slowly and finally started to remember what happened before she woke up.

_Shit, those creepy goth kids shot me. Where the fuck am I?_

“Where am I?” she asked those closest to her, hoping she didn’t sound as panicked as she felt.

She was confused when they looked at her with suspicion and disdain, they were clearly confused at her confusion. When Beth started to look around and really take in her surroundings. Not only was she in a room filled with women, all wearing black scrubs and barefoot, the women were almost supernaturally beautiful. The women were no older than thirty, to Beth’s best estimation, and came in a vast array of ethnicities and sizes.

“You’re at the Sanctuary,” one woman finally deigned to answer her.

That meant nothing to Beth and didn’t answer her question.

“O…K…” she decided the women were a dead end, so she got off her bed and on wobbly legs, she looked for the nearest exit. She found a door and was relieved it was unlocked and saw it led out to a hallway.

She sprinted through, hoping that it would be just as easy to find her way out of the building and find a way to call for help. She then nearly bumped into a girl, finding herself inexplicably in another white room filled with women. She desperately looked around, hoping to find another door but became confused when she saw the only one there was the same one she just came through. After a few seconds, she actually recognized the woman who had told her where she was. She looked back and saw the hallway she had seen before, she turned around to go out the door.

But again, she found herself in a white room filled with women. Not knowing what else to do, she closed the door and re-opened it, she saw the hallway and tried again to cross the threshold. But as soon as she crossed the doorway, she found herself exactly where she was trying to escape.

Not understanding what was happening, she started to breath erratically and desperately wanted her mother.

She tried three more times, finally accepting that escape was impossible as she kept going into the same room with the same women, who were looking at her askance and as if she were crazy. She tried to regulate her breathing, not wanting to pass out and maybe wake to an even worse nightmare. Tears started to stream down her eyes, she backed into a wall and she couldn’t hold up her weight. She slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor.

“What is going on?” she cried to herself, her hands roving through her hair.

Finally, one of the women took mercy on her, she came to the crying girl and crouched down. She hesitated to touch her, but eventually put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re OK, you’re at the Sanctuary. You’re safe,” she cooed.

“I don’t know what that means,” Beth hiccupped.

The woman blinked, surprised,

“It’s the Sanctuary…” she wasn’t sure how else to explain it, everyone had waited all their lives to make it there. “It’s where we finally get to fulfill our purpose.”

“Our what?”

“Didn’t they tell you while you grew up? What your Divine Purpose was?”

“What?” none of that made sense to Beth.

The woman didn’t know how she couldn’t have known, it seemed unheard of such a thing happening.

“All I remember is going to my car after a game and these two goth kids shot me with a tranq gun.”

“Game?”

“Football game…my high school football game?”

The woman seemed just as confused at Beth as she was of her.

“Oh shit, they were right. Those kids are part of a satanic cult and I’m about to be sacrificed, holy shit.”

“Sweetie, you need to calm down or you’re going to pass out,” the woman warned Beth as the teen started to hyperventilate.

Before Beth could do anything, an old woman in scarlet came through the door.

“Ladies, thank you for your patience. You have all passed your physical and are in peak condition. You may pass into orientation.”

There was a cheer that went up from the other women, they eagerly got into line to follow the woman in red. The kind woman offered her hand to Beth, helping her up. She took it gratefully and while she was terrified to follow the women, at least it seemed whatever was wrong with the door had been fixed as they were able to exit rather than return to the room. They emptied out into the hall, and they were joined by even more women coming from similar rooms. All were beauty queens in full make up and hair and wore black scrubs. It seemed that Beth was one of the youngest of the group and wondered what the hell she was doing with all these women.

_Why the hell did they give us physicals? Do we have to be perfectly healthy to be sacrificed?_

It made her sick to her stomach thinking they had poked and prodded her while she was passed out. She hugged herself, desperately wishing she would wake from this nightmare.

Since she had no where else to go, all doors looked to lead to white rooms, she followed the crowd. They were all led to an auditorium with tiered seating, a gargantuan movie theatre sized screen that showed neon lights bouncing around. Beth looked around, trying to get every detail of her surroundings. She counted around 100 women wearing scrubs in the auditorium, a dozen more in red robes.

For a Satanic cult, she would have figured it’d be all dark and gothic; like the ones who had drugged and kidnapped her. She wouldn’t have expected so much white, clean lines, and minimalist architecture.

_What kind of weirdo cult is this? Satanic Apple cult?_

Once they were all seated, the lights dimmed, and the screen came to life.

_I must be in some weird alternate universe._

Beth thought when two pale men with bowl haircuts came to the screen.

“Congratulations Ladies!” the blond man shouted obnoxiously. “You are the lucky few that have been chosen for the Bride Program.”

Beth was pretty sure she was going to throw up.

“The Bride Program, of course, was started by the Cooperative in the early 1900’s. Were women have been specially selected to participate in a special ritual to conceive a potential bride for our Dark Lord, the Anti-Christ whenever He may come. You have been raised to be the perfect Satanic wife since birth. He walks among us and the End is FUCKING NIGH!”

The crowd erupted in a loud cheer, most even giving a standing ovation.

“Yes, not only are you all exceedingly beautiful, but you all have some demonic essence that makes you a perfect vessel to give birth to future Princes of Hell!” the brunet added, his jovial dudebro accent didn’t seem to really go with his Satanic message.

The crowd started to cheer louder, all so happy to be part of the program and alive when their Dark Lord would bring about the apocalypse.

_Wake up Beth, wake up Beth, wake up Beth_

She closed her eyes and concentrated on waking herself up from the nightmare, but the men on the screen continued to talk.

“So out of thousands of potential Brides, you are the ones who have not aged out or died, and have proven fertility from your very thorough physicals. You will be escorted to the Main house where we will have the Selection Ball. There, the Anti-Christ will choose His bride…or brides. He’s the Crown Prince of Hell and speaks for our Lord and Savior Satan, He can have whatever the hell He wants!”

Again the crowd cheered and Beth looked around and couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“At the Main house, you will dress to impress and be ready by seven. Food and drinks will be served, have fun!”

The screen went blank and the women started to happily chat, excited to be potentially selected as a Bride of the Anti-Christ.

“ **WHAT THE FUCK?** ” Beth shouted, unable to keep it in.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you DawnOfTheMorning, TinyTaser, and Takemetowonderland420! I'm so glad you've enjoyed the story and I hope you like the new chapter.

* * *

 

Beth immediately regretted her outburst, she thought she must look a fright standing in the middle of the auditorium with no make-up and her hair in disarray as she had pulled at it in a slight panic. With everyone’s judgmental eyes on her, she burst out laughing as she knew she had to be in some sort of hidden camera prank show that had gone too far.

“I think it’s obvious I don’t belong here,” she laughed between hysterical hyperventilating. “So I’m just going to go.”

She started to make her way away from her seat and walk over the women who were still sitting there dumbfounded that someone would want to leave.

“Excuse me…excuse me…sorry…I just need to…thank you,” she tripped a few times over people, trying to be polite as possible as she made her get away. Most were happy to attempt to move to accommodate her, but the seating wasn’t really meant to have a ragged teenager hastily try to make her escape.

Once she was free from the seating, she went straight to the first door that looked like it could be an exit, hoping that she wouldn’t just keep her going back into a room she was trying to leave. Several women in crimson robes and upside-down pentagrams embroidered in silver tried to body block her. Beth did a hairpin turn, avoiding them and almost at a run tried to find the next nearest exit. They quickly caught up to her, and brandished small daggers at her; she stopped dead in her tracks. She was surrounded and tried to think of what to do.

_This is a nightmare, you need to wake up…or maybe try to create an exit. Anything can happen in a dream. Lucid dreaming, totally a thing. Door, door appear…door materialize._

But no matter how much she willed for an exit to appear, nothing would happen and the Satanists closed in on her.

“How **dare** you blaspheme the Dark Prince, the Most Unholy One; He who will bring the End Times. You are blessed to have even been born for Him,” one of them hissed, enraged that someone would be so disrespectful when others would have literally killed to have even the chance to be considered. She reached out to grab the frightened teen, Beth struggled and still tried to escape. Her black scrubs tore and she stumbled to the ground.

Although the Acolyte was normally light on her feet, she inexplicable fell onto her athamé, screeching in pain. Her ruby red blood seamlessly soaked her robe.

“What is the meaning of this?!” a deep male voice intoned, wondering what the disruption was to the orientation of the Bride Program. Everyone had stopped, the women in red had bowed their heads and so did the Brides. Beth looked up to see an imposing figure of a towering man in black, his beard neatly groomed and his features shadowed by the hood he wore.

“One of the…Brides…is trying to escape, Your Dark Holiness” the Acolyte all but spit out, disgusted that such a thing would occur and getting slightly light headed from the blood loss.

“I see,” the Black Pope realized who the girl was, he should have suspected something like this happening. He gazed down at the lost Bride, who had wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth as she whispered,

“Wake up, you need to wake up.”

“I assure you Ms. Baxter, you are not dreaming.”

“No, this is most definitely a nightmare,” she told the man in black with tear stains marring her features. “Because I’m surrounded by beauty queens and two dudebros with penis shaped haircuts just told me we’re all potential brides for Satan…”

“The Son of Satan,” he corrected her.

“ **Right** , the Son of Satan. How does that not sound totally insane to you? How could this be real life? I’m not supposed to be here.”

 Anton could feel sympathy for the girl, perhaps in another life she was meant to live out her mundane life and have it all end with the others once the Apocalypse commenced. But the girl had been born for greater things, and she must see that she had a purpose. What that purpose was, he did not know and that was up to their Lord in the flesh to decide.

“Come with me, I will explain everything,” others gasped at his generosity, most had assumed the girl would simply be killed or kicked out. They had agreed with her, she clearly did not belong.

Beth thought the dream could not get any weirder, but she figured she would wake up eventually and at the very least, the man didn’t have a knife on him. She took his outstretched hand and he lifted her to her feet. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her as they made their way out of auditorium. They passed by floor to ceiling glass windows that showed a vast open green space. A few miles across the green acres stood a Châteauesque-style mansion.

Mansion seemed too small of a description, but castle and estate weren’t quite right either. She completely forgot she was following some man in a black robe, she stopped to admire the architecture.

“Wow, that has to be at least two-hundred thousand square feet. It’s bigger than even the Biltmore,” she told him although he had not asked. “Where are we? I thought I knew all the Gilded Age mansions…is the Son of Satan a Vanderbilt?”

“No, come Bethany.”

She didn’t want to go with him, she would rather admire the mansion until she woke up. But she could sense that his patience was running out and she didn’t feel like steering the dream back into a nightmare. She followed him to an office, instead of the stark white minimalist aesthetic that the rest of the building had—his office reminded her of a horror movie. The walls were painted a deep ochre, with black wrought iron candelabra looming over them from the ceiling. There weren’t any actual electrical lights, there were only candles that gave them illumination.

_Well this is a creepy windowless office…that I walked into with a strange man. I’m not very smart in dreams it seems._

“You’re not in a dream.”

“Right.”

He sat behind an onyx desk, cleared of everything with the exception of a stack of parchment—not paper, but actual parchment—and two candlesticks.

_If he offers you candy, run._

“Sit Ms. Baxter,” he ordered, and she obeyed. It was a high-backed satin black chair that looked like it was owned by the Adams Family, it was more comfortable than she thought it would be. She was not expecting the sudden thwack of a riding crop he had hidden in his desk hitting her arm.

“Ow! What the fuck, man…?”

“I really don’t want to waste anymore time to convince you that you’re not in a dream. I understand it is most unusual here, especially with Mutt and Jeff running the program.”

“Mutt and Jeff?”

Anton sighed, understanding her disbelief. He would have preferred not to have ever been in the company of the two most idiotic followers who had sold their soul, but if his Lord Satan found them worthy then he would trust his master had His reasons.

He very nearly missed it when one of the candles from the chandelier above his desk had come loose and came flying down towards his head. Thankfully he had moved just enough that it just hit his shoulder. The heavy black candle just rolled away, he wondered how it could have been dislodged and looked at the girl in front of him, an inquisitive quirk to his brow.

Beth slumped into the chair, rubbing her still smarting arm and not really paying attention to Anton. The reality of where she was starting to sink in, but she still wasn’t totally convinced.

“If this isn’t a dream, why couldn’t I escape? I went out of a room to just go back into it.”

“The building is special, it has magic imbued within it’s foundation and walls to not allow anyone to go where they should not.”

_OK, clearly I’m not dreaming as that hit hurt like hell but they want to keep fucking with me. It’s probably the drugs, they hadn’t worn off. I still feel a bit woozy._

“Where’s my mom?”

“She is safe.”

Beth didn’t know if she could trust him, but given she was a prisoner and had no idea where she was, she didn’t have much choice.

“I do apologize for than the…less than hospitable accommodations you have received so far. I am Anton LaVey, the Black Pope of the Church of Satan,” if he was put out that she seemed totally unaware of who he was, he didn’t let it show. “The Anti-Christ has come and we have gathered all the known Brides that are of age. Of the thousands that were conceived, only a couple of hundred have made it to adulthood. Fewer were able to pass the fertility test.”

“OK, that’s your weird Handmaid’s Tale deal. Like cool, follow your truth. What does this have to do with me?”

“Seventeen years ago, your mother was a devout follower of our Lord Satan. She was quickly making her way up the ranks, in a few months she had surpassed Acolyte and was a Bishop. We had high hopes that perhaps one day she could have been a Cardinal, maybe even a Pope.”

“Not Popette or Mitéra?”

“Funny…although I kind of like Mitéra…anyway the point is, Mia Baxter had undergone the Ritual of Obscura Notitia…”

“Black information?”

“Dark Conception…it’s an older meaning for notitia…you know Latin?”

“I took four years of it…I thought it would help me with the SATs. It worked by the way, I got a perfect score on the verbal for the practice test.”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks, I worked really hard. I have plans to go to Berkeley, so you can see how marrying Satan Jr. isn’t part of my dream board.”

“I highly doubt you would ever be picked.”

_Ouch_

Although deep down she did not want to get married into this insane cult, it still kind of smarted that she was rejected from the start.

“Despite your mother’s conviction and fervor, for reasons unknown she had decided to abscond with you and left the Church, hiding you for years. You were not raised to be the traditional Bride. As such, you have not been raised in our ways. You do not have the advantage of years of training and grooming. There are 99 other women who He has to choose from that are far more appropriate.”

“Then why keep me here? I have friends and a life, people will miss me.”

“Regardless of your upbringing, you were born for Him. It is ultimately up to Him to dismiss you, and until He does, you will participate in the Selection Ball. As for your ‘life,’ you are an ordinary teen with no real outstanding qualities. Born to a single mother in a small Arizona suburb, whatever fuss that may be made about you will not last long. Even if it did, we have ways of making people not care.”

“What happens when I’m not chosen, am I going to die?”

It was a fair question, as human sacrifice was a widely practiced ritual in order to sell one’s soul.

“No, a person born of Obscura Notitia is not a proper sacrifice. With the time, resources, and potential—it’d be a waste to kill them off if they can be useful.”

“Person?”

“Not everyone who submitted to the Ritual had birthed a daughter. The male children are raised separately, to be soldiers for His Son.”

“Why can’t the Anti-Christ have a husband?”

“He is foretold to have a sons to rule after his thousand year reign, when the world is remade in His image.”

_What does that have to do with anything? Whatever, I don’t even care._

She decided not to argue, it wasn’t like the Black Pope was the one to talk about LGBT rights and fighting heteronomativity. She really didn’t want to get into whatever “prophecies” this cult may have, there was no rationalizing with insane people.

“OK, I’m not chosen…what happens to me next?”

“We find a place for you, within the Church or the Cooperative.”

“The Cooperative?”

“It is the secular arm of Satan’s Kingdom. They make and control the money and influence the governments of the world.”

“Wait…so there **is** a vast secret network of billionaires working in conjunction that control the world for the end of Man?”

“Of course.”

“Well I feel dumb…I have a couple of apologies to make…anyway. So I go to this ball, I get passed over, then you find me a place in the Cooperative? Could this place be in architecture?”

“Possibly, we always need capable and smart people as part of our vast network. We can get you into any school that you want. Although depending on His actual plan for the Apocalypse, you may have to learn from within the Sanctuary or be assigned a specific task.”

_OK, maybe this cult isn’t so bad if they’re willing to pay for school. My mother could have chosen worse cults and I just need to buy time to get away from these crazy assholes._

“Would I need to sign a book? Sell my soul?”

“You don’t have a soul. It’s why we can’t sacrifice you.”

Beth scoffed, offended he would say such a thing.

_I have a soul, jerk._

“You will be escorted to one of the guest houses to get ready. You will have access to appropriate formal wear, make-up artists, and hair dressers. We have to at least make you look presentable. I suggest you keep a low profile, while I may tolerate your lack of manners, the Son of Satan has the power to obliterate you from existence.”

_OK, so these people may not “sacrifice” me but they still may kill me. Wear a dress, smile, and get out of the way. That’s easy. Need to take this insanity one day at a time. This place is huge, no way can they keep tabs on me. The drugs will have worn off and I can get out of the building…I just need to find my mother…then wring her neck._

  
  
Beth found herself in a “guest house” not too far from the main mansion. It had the same Châteauesque elevation, just on a smaller scale. The guest house would have been considered a mansion where she was from, it had to have at least five bedrooms, and predicted that each room had its own en suite. She couldn’t fathom what kind of guests they catered to that needed their own actual house to themselves.

There were a dozen or so Brides in the house already, in varying stages of getting ready. She could feel their inquisitive eyes on her, wondering what she was doing there and why they would even bother. She was easily the youngest person there, and she wondered what the cut off for what they assumed was “of age.”

_I’m only seventeen. What kind of creepy weirdo wants to marry a seventeen year old?_

She clung to the desperate hope that Anton was right, that she would easily be passed over. The dudebros had said the Anti-Christ could potentially chose more than one wife, but so many to choose from she still felt she was rather safe. Her only worry was that He would choose them all, not willing to settle for anything less than everything he could potentially want.

Then there was also the facts she had no idea what He even looked like. She had no idea how long it took to plan an Apocalypse, and the program had been going on since the beginning of the last century.

_He’s probably old as fuck._

She couldn’t help but think of all the old white men that occupied seats in government, they all acted like they wanted the world to burn. Or someone like Warren Jeffs, a disgusting leader that used religion to justify his pedophilia.

Beth was led into a parlor by a cadre of assistances in plain black slacks and black oxford shirts. They quickly explained they were there to do her hair and make-up and sat her down in a barber chair with a vanity next to it. If she didn’t know any better, it felt like she was getting ready for Senior Prom. The workers around her were far less intimidating without ceremonial robes, and she felt like maybe she could relax for a second.

“I am Dylan, the lead beautician. We are here to make sure each Bride looks and feels beautiful on her special day,” he crooned, honored to be part of such an occasion. When he had sold his soul to open his own boutique and full service salon, he had hoped he would be one of the lucky ones to be called on to serve the Dark Lord’s future Bride. If he played his cards right, he could be the exclusive hair dresser for the Queen of Hell. While he didn’t think the girl currently in his chair would be the one, his pride would not let him do anything other than his best. He had already worked on others, all with years of experience of looking their best. He had heard a rumor of a so called “Lost Bride,” it was all the others would talk about. They had gossiped about a rough looking teenager that had freaked out during orientation. No one knew why for sure, but some had spread the word that the girl’s mother had run away from the Church and raised her daughter as a normal girl.

Of course no potential Bride could be left unaccounted for, they were lucky to find her in time and he had his work cut out for him.

“So my dear,” he oozed charm, wanting her to relax because he could not work with a tear stained wreck. “What are we thinking? French twist? Corkscrew curls and a tiara? High and tight updo?”

All of that sounded boring to Beth, and since this was all free and it sounded like he had to do whatever she wanted,

“I was thinking a mix between Lagertha and Daenerys, intricate braids at the crown and romance waves with the rest of my hair down.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, he never thought a Bride would ask for such a thing. Most hadn’t been allowed to watch mainstream television, most thinking it was a distraction from their education on being the perfect Satanic wife. Excitement bubbled in his chest as it would be a challenge and he rarely ever got to do braids.

He was also a huge Game of Thrones fan,

“Well, you are full of surprises, aren’t you? And what is your dress like?”

“I don’t have a dress, I had no idea I would be going to Satanic Prom.”

Dylan giggled at her joke, liking the girl.

“Well, we have an unlimited amount of money and resources, so you just tell papa Dylan what you like and we’ll get you set up.”

“I have no idea about dress styles, so I’m not going to know the proper terms…but here is how I want it to feel.”

The rest of the attendants had gathered around, the girl had piqued their curiosity. She was certainly the most interesting Bride they had worked with so far.

“I want it flowy, deep pink or fuchsia…like the dawn. So, think dawn faery…” she took a minute to think of all that she wanted. “Targaryen…in Dorne.”

“I know exactly what you want, we’ll get started on that. But first you need a facial, stat…and several other treatments, darlin’ you are a mess.”

Beth tried not to feel insulted that he thought she needed a bunch of work, but in fairness she was going up against a bunch of Stepford Wives. She figured she should just let it all happen,

_It’s not like I actually want to be picked. I just need to get through this “Selection Ball” and then I can either figure out how to escape or hell—heh that’s a good pun—I may even take advantage of any schooling they’ll pay for._

For the next couple of hours, she submitted to being their doll. She let them dress her, play with her hair, and at the end the product was rather impressive.

“Swish, swish,” Beth played with her dress, liking how the light material flowed around her. She was so enamored with her outfit that she didn’t really hear anything her attendants had said.

“ **Beth** ,” Dylan tried to get her attention for the third time.

Almost being yelled at, she finally looked at him.

“Stay still, I need to put these pins in,” he instructed her, holding bejeweled hairpins that he wanted to set into her long raven hair. Once he was done fussing, he stood back and admired his handywork.

While her dress colour pallet was a riot of pink and orange, her pitch-black hair reminded him of an inky black night sky. While most of the other women had wanted some sort of head dress such as crowns and tiaras, he wanted hers to be less ostentatious but still lavish. The pins in her hair were diamond starbursts, a dozen scattered among her tresses.

The other Brides were raised to be Queens, but Beth was Ēostre reborn.

“Swish, swish,” she swung her head to and fro, liking how her hair bounced.

“Do not do that!” Dylan yelled, aghast that she would treat his artwork in such a careless manner.

Beth immediately stopped, properly chided and felt like maybe she ought to sit in a corner.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized when she looked like a puppy that had been kicked. “But you look beautiful, we wouldn’t want all this hard work to be wasted before the Most Unholy One got a chance to see you.”

“Right…” she tried to remain neutral, wanting to change topics.

Another attendant had come into the room and whispered into Dylan’s ear. He nodded,

“You have about an hour before the ball, there is a special guest that wants to meet you in one of the rooms upstairs. Louis will escort you.”

Beth thought that was a bit odd, but felt like she didn’t have much choice and followed the woman to the second floor. She was led to a bedroom with a massive four poster bed and heavy drapes.

_What can I use as a weapon?_

She looked around the room, hoping it wasn’t some weird trap for whomever they felt was the “Anti-Christ” to rape and kill her. It was a rather convoluted plan to have her go through hours of makeup and hair, but she thought it could be a more messed up version of The Most Dangerous Game.

She wondered if the lamp on the side table would be too heavy for her to utilize as weapon.

“Beth?” an unsure voice questioned behind her. She recognized it and immediately turned around.

It was her mother, safe and sound. She ran to her, so relieved to see her safe and hugged her tight. Mia cried in relief, so happy to see her daughter wasn’t hurt. Beth held onto her mother tight, comforted by her familiar scent.

They broke apart, she looked over her mother to double check that she was OK. Once she was satisfied that no harm had come to her mother,

“Mom, **what the fuck**?!” she yelled, anger replacing her happiness.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and please review. Please also note that I will answer any questions from here on my tumblr or I may do an "Author's Commentary" for this fic. I don't like that AO3 counts replies as "comments." I think it gives the story a false reading/review stat. Any "thank yous" will be acknowledged in the note of the next chapter. I won't answer questions via notes because that could potentially cause them to be longer than the chapter itself and nobody got time for that. :-D


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